America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

"One hundred dollars?"

Jack turned around instantly, his expression immediately switching to a fake smile that was even brighter than the California sunshine.

"Bro, you've come to the right person."

He walked back and patted Chen Ming's shoulder affectionately, with a force as strong as if he were a long-lost brother.

"I'm not bragging, but nobody in this gym, or even in the whole of Koreatown, knows more about MMA than me. I used to fight in Bellator's qualifiers, and my record was six wins and two losses, four of which were first-round knockouts..."

As Jack spoke, he began to jump in place and quickly launched several sets of air attacks.

The punches were powerful and whistling, and although they were a bit exaggerated, they did have some skill.

"Whether you want to learn boxing, Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, or wrestling, I can teach you."

Seemingly feeling that he wasn't convincing enough, Jack suddenly spread his legs into an awkward horse stance.

"I even know a little about Chinese Kung Fu."

"Ada—like this, using softness to overcome hardness, using someone else's strength against them, right?"

Chen Ming looked at him expressionlessly.

"First of all, I am of Chinese descent."

"Secondly, what you just did was the starting stance for a Taekwondo side kick."

"Well……"

Jack awkwardly retracted his stance and scratched his blond buzz cut.

"Alright, it seems I shouldn't have tried to teach you, but my Muay Thai and Jiu-Jitsu are definitely genuine black belt level."

"Then let's try Muay Thai."

Chen Ming didn't dwell on the issue; he wasn't there to be a martial arts examiner.

"No problem, as long as it's not like that idiot from before who made me teach him how to release energy waves."

Out of respect for Franklin, Jack was now much easier to talk to.

"But before we teach you the real stuff, we need to get a feel for things first."

Jack tossed Chen Ming a pair of boxing gloves, a wicked grin on his face.

"Let's put you in the cage. I'll hold back and focus on your reaction and resilience—if you don't even know how to take a beating, learning anything else will be a waste."

Chen Ming put on his boxing gloves and tried to shake them.

"no problem."

He also wanted to test what 25 points of strength plus strength specialization really meant in actual combat.

The two entered the octagonal cage.

Several veterans who were taking a break gathered around, and the scene of "Jack is going to beat up a newbie" was the most popular and recurring theme.

"Are you ready, Popeye?"

"bring it on."

Chen Ming took a deep breath and assumed a less-than-standard fighting stance.

"Ding!"

Jack made a sound and then started bouncing around like he had springs in his legs, his steps light and his hands protecting his head, always maintaining a safe distance.

In contrast, Chen Ming stood with his feet parallel, his center of gravity ridiculously high.

It seems he's a complete novice.

Jack felt much more at ease.

"Watch out, bro. Fighting isn't about strength, it's about skill."

Jack pointed to his head, then suddenly slid in, feigning a jab to bait the opponent, preparing to follow up with a beautiful sway to show off his footwork.

However, Chen Ming did not move.

He wasn't fooled by the feint, nor did he throw any random punches. He simply lowered his gaze and then threw a simple, unadorned left hook.

The way he exerted force was like a street brawl, with no skill whatsoever.

But he has 25 points of strength.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud.

Jack's eyes bulged out, his face instantly turning a deep liver color. The immense impact nearly knocked him over. He stared at Chen Ming with a distorted expression, his eyes filled with bewilderment.

"Hiss... Fuck... Who taught you to just attack my liver like that?"

A novice fighter would just aim for the face and throw wild punches, but a veteran would be cunning enough to find an opening and strike there.

"You must have practiced before, are you just messing with me again?"

"I haven't practiced it; it's purely a conditioned reflex."

Chen Ming felt a little embarrassed as he looked at his coach, who was gradually kneeling on the ground.

"I'm a medical student, I couldn't resist."

"..."

Jack rolled his eyes and slumped helplessly onto the mat.

"You damn doctor, help me up! I think my liver might be ruptured..."

……

It took Jack a full ten minutes to get up, leaning on the cage.

This time he learned his lesson and resolutely stopped mentioning the word "real combat." Instead, he honestly picked up the hand target and began teaching Chen Ming the most basic stance, movement, and power generation.

"Twist your waist, thrust your hips, and put your weight into your fists instead of just swinging your arms."

"Like this?"

Chen Ming watched his movements for a moment, then copied an almost perfect version.

"Snapped!"

"Damn it... are you a photocopier?"

Jack shook his arm, which was numb from the shock, and looked at Chen Ming with a gaze that was both like looking at a monster and with a hint of relief.

"Teaching you Asians is so much easier... If this were a Hispanic or Black kid, I'd have to spend half a month correcting these movements."

Chen Ming didn't respond, but silently repeated the actions.

He knew in his heart that this was not entirely due to racial talent, but rather due to his high mental attribute of 26 points.

In their own panel, Spirit doesn't seem to represent just mana or willpower; it's more like a comprehensive indicator encompassing memory, energy, and learning ability.

Every detail of Jack's movements, once seen by Chen Ming, was quickly broken down and memorized by his brain and precisely transmitted to his muscles.

This is what is meant by "you can learn it at a glance".

For the next three hours, Chen Ming absorbed Muay Thai techniques like a sponge.

Jab, straight punch, hook, sweeping kick, knee strike, front kick...

Although the movements are still a bit clumsy, at least they look quite professional on the stand.

The only thing Jack regretted was Chen Ming's physical fitness.

"Huff... huff..."

After only two hours of practicing hand target shooting, Chen Ming was already drenched in sweat, his lungs felt like they were on fire, and he had to hold his knees and gasp for breath.

"That's strange."

Jack handed Chen Ming a bottle of water and couldn't help but complain.

"Generally speaking, you Asians are all stamina monsters, able to run five rounds on the field without getting out of breath, but you tend to be weaker in strength. You are the complete opposite."

"If you can improve your physical fitness and then dedicate yourself to honing your skills for a few years... I think you are fully qualified to compete in amateur matches or even challenge for the UFC."

"Believe me, the prize money in the competition is much more exciting than what you can earn as a doctor."

"Let's talk about it later."

Chen Ming took a sip of water and smiled noncommittally.

What excited Chen Ming even more than Jack's empty promises was the addition of a new skill to his skill list.

[Muay Thai: Lv1 (You have mastered the basic Muay Thai stance, but it's not time to try kicking a banana tree yet.)]

Just as he had predicted, he could also acquire skills through learning, and then he could level up by practicing normally or adding points.